


Stability

by sweet_potato_bisque



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, BIG TWISTS AND SURPRISES, Eventual Romance, Fate & Destiny, LINK & A REAL HUMAN BOY, M/M, OCs that dont succ, REAL TALKING SWORDS, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Burn, Weekly Updates, You dont wanna miss this one baby, hopefully, what more could you want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_potato_bisque/pseuds/sweet_potato_bisque
Summary: When Link saves Tommel from certain death, it comes at a steep price - his body terribly injured, his plan to defeat Ganon is in shambles. While Tommel helps him recover, Link is given a new plan by an unexpected guest...To defeat Ganon and save Hyrule, Link will need to do something terrible.And he might just do it.
Relationships: Link/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The severe shortage of cute boys to pair with Link in LOZ is a real problem and needs to be fixed. None of the random traveler NPCs in Breath of the Wild made the cut. This is my public service attempt at filling the void.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy!

Tommel only saw a flash of blonde before the wind left his lungs, his body barreling head-first into the grass under the weight of what felt like a rock. Three squeals cut out from behind him, and he was shoved yet again down the hillside.

Where his body had been, an arrow pierced into the dirt with a _twang_. It burst into flames.

“Run!”

Tommel gasped for breath, unable to push himself upright. His head spinning, he could only watch as the blonde stranger ripped the arrow from the ground and leapt onto an orange brute, twisting and flailing in a massively imbalanced wrestling match. Two pale hands ran the arrow through the creature’s left eye, and an ear-splitting scream escaped its mouth.

Three stable-men with spears and shields appeared from around the hill, and the momentary distraction was all the brute needed to cut its hand into the stranger’s throat and slam him into the rocky cliff-side.

He cried out, blood running into his tunic, inching backwards in the dirt as the brutes loomed over him. He was nearly on top of Tommel now. “I told you to run,” he snarled, anger laced with desperation, but Tommel couldn’t move under the weight of him.

“I’m _trying_ —” he wanted to reply, but a weight crushed into him, and he saw black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link POV

Link jolted awake, torso springing upright, arms crossing together in a defensive posture. Pain ripped through his body, and a whimper escaped his lips. A small bedroom. Red wool draped over skinny, high-set windows. His sword behind a stranger.

He forced his lungs to slow with a steady, methodical breath, and some of the tension in his muscles eased.

Two sheepish eyes stared at him from the doorway, transfixed. “Sorry,” the stranger said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Link studied him. The kid was skinny. No imminent danger.

The stranger shifted his feet in discomfort. "I'm Tommel," he said. The awkwardness in his eyes was not obscured by the messy, reddish hair which dangled nearly to his cheekbones. Over his pale forehead wrapped a mess of tangled bandages which were applied too loosely. They appeared to be around the same age. "How are you feeling?"

Memories of their battle with the Bokoblins flashed in Link's mind. He seemed to recall this Tommel's negligence almost getting both of them killed. A wave of annoyance washed over Link and pooled behind his eyes in a pulsing headache. He closed his eyes and laid back, wincing.

Tommel, unphased by the silence, continued. “The gash on your neck wasn’t deep, but your ribs weren’t so lucky,” he said. “I’ve done my best to clean your wounds. Before this, I'd only bandaged up the goats.” As if waiting to be acknowledged, a goat bleated from just outside the window. "I had some help."

Gently, Link peeled back the covers to see a tangled patchwork of cloth compressing his chest wounds. Over his heart, a dark red stain colored the bandages. He glanced to the light from the curtains. Sunset.

“You haven’t been out long,” said the stranger, wincing as he poked his own forehead bandages. “A couple hours, maybe. My family runs these stables. We aren't rich, but we should have plenty of food for you. And herbs for your wounds. My brother used to collect nitten root from the riverbed on the other side of those woods.”

Link was unmoved by the implied offer to stay. He started up out of bed and sighed. “Thank you for cleaning my wounds.” His voice was hoarse. He reached for a stretch before his wounds screamed at him in pain — mouth agape, Link darted his gaze to the blood seeping from his bandages. He hunched over and gasped. Blood trickled to his bellybutton. Each heartbeat seemed to tear open his skin again.

Tommel appeared traumatized by this display, and he jumped to Link's side, plainly unsure of how to help. "I'm fine," Link snapped through clenched teeth, but the stableboy helped support his weight as he rolled back onto the hay mattress. The knight felt a panic rising in his chest.

“You shouldn't move right now,” said Tommel, grimacing. “You were hurt badly. But please, we do have plenty of food and medicine to share.”

Link closed his eyes, the futility of his situation creeping into his throat. Something felt horribly wrong. This was not going to heal quickly.

"Just relax," Tommel said, and Link's anxiety burst into flames. He held his tongue.

Tommel only stared. “I didn't catch your name.”

“Link.”

Something about his name seemed to amuse Tommel, and this only egged on the anger in Link's throat. But the stableboy's lips quickly fell into a pensive frown. “Thank you, Link. For what you did earlier. You saved my life.”

Link raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement.

The gravity of his failure began to solidify in his chest. He took a breath. Weeks spent recovering when Calamity’s return could be mere months away—did Tommel realize what just happened? How contingent all their lives were on his recovery? His trip to the stable had already been an unnecessary detour. He wanted to kick himself.

"I think I just need some rest," Link said, and Tommel nodded and shuffled to the room's wooden dresser to find something.

Few Hylians were alive a hundred years ago to remember the Calamity. Link's own memories were a haze. But his dreams were so vivid in their demonstrations of death and suffering. Saving one life wasn’t going to be enough... Ganon was going to eat them all. Princess Zelda, her energy ever present at the edge of his mind, seemed to feed on his fear. Images of Hyrule Castle and its purple miasma flashed through his mind.

 _Tell me what to do_ , he pleaded silently to her. He waited a moment, impatient to hear her voice again. _Give me something_. Could she even hear him?

He tried again to remember what things were like before Ganon had ruined his life. What kind of man he wanted to be before it was decided for him.

On the other side of the room leaned the Master Sword, utterly relaxed, resting quietly against the oak paneled door frame. Dim light reflected from its polished metal. The sword seemed to call out to him.

For a moment, the room fell eerily silent. A pressure grew inside Link's forehead, its intensity beating to a steady rhythm as a raging headache clawed upwards from the back of his neck. Whispers played at the edge of his hearing as waves of discomfort rolled into his head. He wanted to scream. All he heard was a deafening ring.

Link opened his eyes, and he was alone—the Master Sword, its reflection growing brighter and brighter, burned a vivid blue into his vision.

An energy squirmed at the perimeter of his mind.

 _I can help you_ , the sword said, but the sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. _But you must do exactly as I say._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommel has a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

That night, Tommel dreamt of a beautiful girl with blonde hair. She floated, suspended in the air like water, dress flowing down to the ground and collecting in a pile of silk. 

A warmth bubbled up from inside his chest and dribbled from his mouth. He lowered his head to see his body covered in blood. The Sheikah Slate hummed in his hands.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked. Her voice was like molasses.

He lifted his gaze back to meet her eyes. They were a deep green.

“It's obvious,” he said, and she screamed.

– 

Tommel had begun to realize that Link was some kind of magnet. Even Tommel’s dog had taken a liking to him.

There was a kind of energy about Link - an other-worldliness that stuck around even as he recovered, something that seemed to hang in the air when Tommel visited the dreary room. Even while bedridden and exhausted, Link had a presence with him. It felt unnatural.

His mother, superstitious and paranoid as ever, scolded him for his frequent visits to Link's room.

“You are acting strange,” she said. Her hand moved to her necklace, knuckles white, pendant firmly in grasp.

Careful she might see it, Tommel shoved the Sheikah Slate into his bag.

“Whoever he is, he shouldn't be here. I can feel that something's wrong again."  _ Like I did with your father. " _ Don't you feel it?" Anxiety rolled off of her in waves.

The only thing Tommel felt was a growing sense of inescapable boredom at the stables. Link had introduced excitement into Tommel's life within seconds of their meeting one another. What wasn't to like?

Slinking through the hallway by Link’s room to catch guilty, fleeting glances, Tommel wasn't sure what he expected to see; each time, Link appeared no differently. A young, weary traveler with blonde hair and stoic, inscrutable expressions. A sword that seemed to be from another world. The mysteriousness about Link - and his unwillingness to talk beyond simple pleasantries - only encouraged Tommel’s curiosity further.

Despite raised eyebrows from his family and their staff, Tommel insisted on doing the work of caring for Link in order to “pay back the kindness” Link had shown in saving him. In some sense, that was true, but more importantly, the peculiar feeling that rose in Tommel's stomach each time they spoke was like a drug.

“Hello, Tommel,” said Link. 

Tommel tried to flash a casual grin, but it felt awkward. “I brought you lunch.” He felt the bowl of stew snatched from his hands, and he marveled at the inhuman speed and aggressiveness with which Link inhaled it. 

When the bowl was finished, Link cleaned his teeth with his tongue, drumming his palms against his thighs to some unknown beat. His eyes drooped.

“Your bandages need to be replaced."

Link nodded, seeming to somberly accept his fate, and Tommel moved to begin untangling the mess of bandages on Link's chest.

The dog watched their movements carefully from beside the doorway.

“Easton enjoys your company,” said Tommel. His fingers shuffled nervously through the stitching. It felt warm against his skin.

Link cast a cursory glance at the dog. “He's been staring at me all day.”

Tommel smiled. "Maybe he wants you to pay rent." He glanced at Link – he didn't laugh. Tommel pursed his lips. “So where are you from, Link?”

Link's eyes continued to droop. They stared at his sword which leaned against the door. “I was raised near the Castle,” he said.

“Isn't that whole province destroyed?”

Link shrugged.

“My father had seen it before,” Tommel said. “He said it's empty – pastures and ruins as far as the eye can see.”

He grabbed his knife and gently tugged at the edge of the blood-stained cloth. Link winced and stayed Tommel's hand with his own. “Let me do it,” Link said.

Tommel grimaced. "Are you sure?”

Link grabbed the knife and adeptly began slicing open the cloth. Stiff with dried blood, the stitching soundly resisted each of Link's efforts with the dull blade. But as the tip continued to re-open the wound, his hand remained steady.

Tommel bit his lip, unsure of how to help. Eventually, he sat back on the bed by Link's legs and continued speaking. 

“You must have seen your fair share of interesting things, growing up around there. I've never left the valley. I travel to the mountaintop east of here often, but that's as far as I go. My mother can be quite protective,” he said. A smile tugged at Tommel's lips. “She blames you for all this trouble.”

Link's eyes sunk. “She would be right."

Tommel stammered. “I wasn't hurt badly. These bandages," he gestured, tugging at the loose piece of cloth on his forehead, “At this point, I'm only wearing them for the attention."

A look of faint amusement played across Link's face, but Tommel blinked, and it vanished.

“My injury,” Link started. “It's delayed something important I need to do.” His hand slipped and tore the cloth with an audible  _ rip.  _ Body stiff and eyes slammed shut, he exhaled the pain through his nose.

Tommel stared, and Link continued. “It's hard to explain,” said Link.

“I see.”

Carefully, Link tore away the last of the cloth. The gash splayed diagonally across his heart, a centerpiece in a spiderweb of green and blue bruising which stretched from his sternum nearly to his collarbone. Black and green scabs dotted the edges of the wound. It smelled of infection.

Tommel immediately surmised that Link would die if the infection continued. He attempted to stay the feeling of panic in his chest from reaching his face.

“It looks fine,” he lied. “But… this will hurt.” Tommel moved to the cabinet by the window. Bottles clinked as he rifled through its contents. Finally, his hand emerged with a clear bottle holding a bright white liquid. 

Link reached out an expectant hand, but this time Tommel insisted. “Let me get this one. Trust me," he said.

Link acquiesced, eyebrows raised. “Can't wait.”

Slowly, Tommel turned the bottle, and a pearly white liquid drizzled over the wound – Link immediately tightened and tried to pull away, grimacing as the liquid foamed and bubbled into a mess of color. Link held back a scream, hissing through his teeth.

“It's White Mulberry," Tommel said. "It should help with the infection and pain. But you may feel groggy for a few hours." Link nodded, eyes glassy and distant. Tommel cleared away the excess liquid and began dressing the gash with a fresh cloth.

Link bit his lip. “I hate this.” For once, he met Tommel's eyes.

“You'll get better,” said Tommel. “I promise.”

It didn't feel like the truth. Was it still a lie if he wanted badly enough for something to be true? A feeling climbed his throat again, and his eyes darted to the gash painted across Link's chest.

A sound from the hallway.

“Tommel,” said his mother. “Lora is waiting for you.”

Tommel hastily stuffed the feeling back down. “Yes, mother.” A cursory look back to Link, who was already grabbing for the pile of clean fabric.

“I got it,” said Link. “Thanks for your help.”

His mother eyed Link’s bare wound from the hallway for a moment. She too seemed to sense the seriousness of the infection. “How are you faring?”

Link only nodded, and she smiled when she realized he had nothing more to say. “A man of many words, I see,” she said, her hand over her necklace. “Come, Tommel.”

– 

“I've been missing you, stranger,” his sister said.

Tommel laughed. “I've been here the whole time."

“You've been preoccupied.”

Her curly red hair danced to and fro in the wind as they meandered up the path to the peak of Pinlow Mountain. Besides the air which played a gentle hum in Tommel's ears, it was quiet. He only heard their footsteps against the pebbles in the dirt. Tommel could see his breath in the cold.

They each carried with them bags of orchids and incense bought from the seasonal traders at the stables.

A warmth radiated from Tommel’s bag. He felt it hum against his shoulder.

“I'm worried about your head,” said Lora, poking at his bandages as they walked. “Are you still feeling dizzy?”

“Not at all,” he lied. His nightly headaches had been getting worse. She appeared to notice that he was lying.

On each side of the path rose oak trees with towering branches that waved in the breeze. The fresh air tasted good. He glanced back at the valley behind him and wondered how many hundreds of times he'd climbed this road. Each time, the quietude of the mountain soaked into his skin like nectar. Every step seemed to scrub away the mundane memories of his life at the stables.

Lora, unaffected by the peace and quiet, wore a resentful face as they walked. “I hate that this happened to you. I wish I had been there.”

“Really,” Tommel said. “I'm okay.” In a dramatic gesture, he pulled the bandages completely from his head and dropped them in the dirt.

She balked, unsure whether to pick them back up. “You're insane.”

“Look,” he said, and he pointed to his forehead. 

Carefully, she parted his red hair away from the wound and inspected him closely, apparently unconvinced. “Small scratch. Big bump.”

“I’m almost fully healed.”

”Right…”

As they climbed, the air grew lighter and the trees fewer and farther between. Dizziness crept into Tommel's vision. They had almost arrived.

“When I saw you two carried in – covered in blood,” she said, voice faltering, their footsteps slowing as they approached the peak, “I thought you were next.”

Slowly, the shrine revealed itself behind the cliff-side, and the familiar wave of grief sunk into Tommel like mud. It felt like drowning.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Don't say that.”

At the peak rested an unassuming stone altar which rose nearly to Tommel's stomach – it read  _ Rocelin,  _ his clan name, and it sat at the center of six gravestones.

All of the gravestones belonged to his family, and among them were the stones for his father and brother. More Rocelins were buried on the mountaintop, but the stones were re-used, moved from the oldest grave to the newest.

Tommel surveyed the unmarked stones. His head spun.

His cousin – drowned. His brother Leigh, an empty grave, had vanished into thin air when Tommel was a child. Tommel's grandfather – smothered in his sleep by a traveler.

His father's stone stared back at him, and Tommel shivered.

According to Tommel’s mother, the men in the Rocelin family were cursed to die unexpectedly at various stages of youth. And the women were cursed to bear male children and watch them die. 

Tommel’s grief lingered, waiting hungrily for a weak moment. His headache pounded.

As the last male heir to the Rocelin name, Tommel suspected his sister was right. He  _ was  _ next. He was marked like the others. Link had saved him from a violent death, but maybe his arrival was the beginning of the end.

Which stone would his mother recycle for his body?

A deep, sick fear clawed its way into his heart. He wanted to crawl into the earth and be done with it. Maybe his mother was right.

He felt Lora squeeze his hand. “Come on,” she said, softly. He nodded. Twilight cast tall shadows from their bodies onto the altar.

She stared at their father‘s stone. Tommel couldn’t parse her expression.

Together, they lit the fire-pit and the incense, replaced the rotting flowers on the altar with fresh orchids, and bowed deeply to the shrine. The dirt smelled like autumn.

– 

In his dreams, he saw Link, young and vibrant, his body darting and spinning in all directions with a makeshift wooden sword. His movements were smooth and calculated even as he laughed with glee. Someone was teaching him.

Tommel sat on a log, just out of sight, his fingers playing with the vines which sprawled along the wood. The same beautiful girl sat next to him.

“Do you know who I am?”

He frowned. “I told you.” He turned to meet her eyes, and her face was already dripping from her skull like hot candle wax. His heart raced.

“Yes.”

He waited for the scream, but she only stared.

The drippings from her face steamed and hissed on the wood flooring. They were in his bedroom now.

“Tommel,” a voice said. He turned to see his father. Tommel blinked, and he felt a sword run through his chest.

— 

“Lora. Wake up.” Tommel shook her.

She swatted his hand away, irritated, and rolled over. The fire-pit, reduced to a few embers, hissed.

”Lora!” he whispered through clenched teeth.

A growl cut through the darkness. 

Lora’s head shot up, body tense. Six eyes peered at them from the overgrowth. 

How could they have fallen asleep?

Tommel felt his bag vibrate. A blue light shone through its cross-stitching.

”What do we do?” he whispered, desperate, but Lora still hadn’t caught her bearings.

One of the wolves let out an ear-splitting snarl, and Tommel shook Lora again. Tommel‘s bag hummed again against the earth. He grabbed it and tossed it over his shoulder. 

”Lora!” He shook her once more.

Tommel heard the snapping of teeth.

The wolves charged, and Lora grabbed his arm and pulled him into the blackness.

They sprinted downhill, wolves in tow, and the overgrown thicket rose to meet them, a flurry of wood and vines obstructing their every movement.

All Tommel saw was darkness, but he heard the hurried movement against the brush, his head spinning. He was already lost — Lora’s hand clenched tightly around his own as she led him through the woods.

The wolves snarled viciously from their rear, practically snapping at their heels as they ran.

He tripped, and Lora screamed his name, but it didn’t matter. The wolves were already on top of Tommel, and he gasped as he felt teeth sink into his arm.

Lora flew into the beast, hands gripped around its neck, beating its head against a rock in a fit of rage.

The wolf spun on top of her, snapping towards her neck, its pack close behind, when Tommel yanked her into a tight embrace and spun their bodies into the darkness, falling, falling through a black pit, vines slowing their descent before they crashed into the floor of the cave with a  _ crunch _ .

The wolves howled from above, furious, but they were safe. Tommel laid on his back, watching the wolves’ shadows against the moonlight as they hungrily circled the entrance to the pit above him.

”Fuck!” said Lora, and she slammed her fist against the cave wall. “Are you alright?”

Tommel’s heart rang in his ears. He couldn’t see anything, but his shaky fingers could feel the sticky blood of the wound on his arm. He couldn’t catch his breath — he clenched his fist against his chest, body freezing, and gasped for air.

Lora rushed to his side, and he felt her hands on his shoulders. “Just breathe,” she pleaded.

He laid there for what felt like hours, head spinning as he struggled to breathe. Lora stayed with him, gently stroking his shoulder with her thumb, and he turned and vomited onto the stone floor.

He shook for a few more moments before exhaustion washed into his body.

“I’m okay,” he said finally, but his voice was tight.

He hugged him tightly. “Fucking wolves.” She turned to face the darkness of the cave, unsure of how to proceed.

Tommel‘s bag hummed again from beside them, and a blue light illuminated their immediate surroundings.

”Do you see that?” she asked.

Tommel almost lacked the energy to respond. He turned to see the light.

”Yes,” he said.

She practically tore the bag open before producing a small, rectangular stone tablet that vibrated in her hands and produced a bright, blue aura of light.

”What in the world is this, Tommel?”

He considered what to say, but as she held it, the tablet hummed louder and louder. Finally, Lora hissed through her teeth, and the tablet bounced against the floor as she dropped it. Its impact echoed from the cave walls.

”It… burned me,” she said.

“It belongs to Link,” said Tommel, his body crying out fatigue.

Lora only stared.

He continued. “It’s hard to explain,” he said. “I haven’t been in my right mind.”

The blue light illuminated his older sister as she pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

”It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “We need to figure out how to get home. I don’t know if this place is safe.”

Tommel finally sat upward and inspected their surroundings. The cave extended far beyond the reach of their light. It was only blackness ahead.

Tommel reached for the stone tablet, but Lora stayed his hand. “I just said it burned me,” she snapped. “Don’t touch that thing.”

But the tablet continued to vibrate against the stone floor. Its rattling pierced Tommel’s ears.

”It’s okay,“ he said. “I can't just leave it here.”

She watched him closely as his fingers wrapped around the tablet. He held still for a moment as if waiting to be burned, but the stone only hummed contentedly in his grip.

He picked it up — 

Tommel’s dizziness shattered. He sat up straight, and energy flew into his body from all directions. The air seemed to shimmer, and an indecipherable noise rang in Tommel’s ears.

Lora seemed to feel it too, and she nervously attempted to swat the stone from his grip, but it didn’t budge.

Tommel saw his sister’s body split into a thousand shades of blue light, her face dissolving into bright dust that drifted into the walls of the cave.

He tried to scream, but his voice was splintered, and he saw his own body shatter into color.


End file.
